


Four rules

by xShieru



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Friendship, Gen, Mental Instability, Psychological Trauma, Suicidal Thoughts, Tragedy, Trust Issues, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 23:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1835536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xShieru/pseuds/xShieru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dystopian AU. </p><p>Survival is only meant for those people who know how to adapt. Kageyama Tobio wasn't one of them. </p><p>Sanity. Sacrifice. Closure. Identity. Four rules that kept him sane until the very end. Sadly, he couldn't follow the fifth and most important rule - feelings are forbidden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four rules

**Author's Note:**

> wow if you came to read this after all of those warnings, you're either really brave or really stupid. heh, and you thought i only wrote happy stuff. anyways, this is actually a huuuuge oneshot divided into four parts. this part revolves around Aobajousai, the next one will be about Karasuno, the third - Nekoma and Fukurodani. the epilogue is somewhat of a closure. 
> 
> i must point out that the fic doesn't revolve around romance, it could be viewed as close friendship. it was supposed to be friendship-only to begin with, but i caved in.
> 
> The story revolves mostly around Kageyama and his struggle with the world. the timeline switches a lot, so read carefully.

Sanity is a fragile thing. It stretches as brittle as it is, but eventually, much like a hair wrapped around a blue-black finger, it snaps. It shatters like a china doll dropped on the ground. His mother used to collect those, called them her biggest possession and wasted thousands of yen on them, but he hated those soulless dolls, he always had. He wasn’t sure what affected him so much, it had to be the eyes, glistening and… undeniably dead. 

He used to get beaten whenever he ‘accidentally’ tipped one of the porcelain dolls placed on overstuffed shelves, but that had been such a long time ago that he can barely remember it. He can hardly recall the screeching voice of his mom’s aggravating lectures and how the noisy slap of a leather belt had felt against his thigh. The sound of ceramics breaking had been music to his ears though, even if he knew what was to come. He can’t piece the sounds and the feelings back together, name them properly like he used to - he has simply forgotten them. 

He doesn’t remember the face of his mother anymore, nor his father, nor-- everyone else for that matter. It’s been ages, back when the days were relatively good and the world was unfair yet normal.

He used to enjoy a lot of things, _simple things_ , like video games, his mother’s special pancakes which she baked every Saturday, the smooth fur of their family’s cat – it never liked him, he always walked around with his hands scratched - but most importantly he liked volleyball. It was something that occupied his mind 24/7, something that made him go outside at the crack of dawn and return late in the evening. His parents would scold him, but he never cared. He loved volleyball and no amount of parental worry could have deterred him. 

That’s the only clear memory he has from those days, the days which are more akin to a faded memory than anything else. The feel of a ball against his palm, light but at the same time heavy. Hours and hours of practice to become good enough in order to master the game. He would have killed for that feeling again, but killing had already gotten so much under his skin that it made him sick physically and mentally. He doubted that he could ever wash off the rotting, infected blood dried on his rough palms and rusted under his fingernails. If anything he wanted to take out a hunting knife and simply peel the dirty skin away. Pain would be worth it. It always is. It makes you remember who you are, where you are and what your purpose is except for the fact that he realizes there is none.

It’s like a doomed timeloop and they are trapped in it like rats in a spinning wheel. They run and run in circles until exhaustion inevitably kicks in and they die.

He constantly has to remind himself that he is not a rat, not a nameless no one, he has an identity - or used to have one a long long time ago - that his name is Kageyama Tobio, he’s sixteen years old and he belongs to a group called Karasuno. To the remains of what little society there’s left, he truly is a no one with a marking tag on his neck - a crow emblazoned on it – a soldier, _a pawn_ which can always be replaced. He’s a nobody with a hunting knife in one hand and a gun in other, trained to wield both with grace and precision. Kageyama’s still holding himself up when in reality his knees are weak from carrying the burden of death and disease that he’s witnessed over the years. His heart is a heavy stone filled with last words of fallen comrades and friends. 

 

(In their eyes Kageyama is less that human, an exhausted mutt that’s seen better days in its pathetic life, tied up and bound to do the bidding of its owner. He’s a rat in a spinning wheel with no way out.) 

 

Kageyama does not think about that, he cannot allow himself to be sentimental in a world that once was so very beautiful and bright, now turned into rubble and rusting skeletons of cities that were once there. Nature is overtaking, slowly but surely, and he knows that after some time, after hundreds or thousands of years not a single construction will be left to remind that there once existed a civilization. He needs to exist in the present though, not the future. He can’t think about the future because nothing awaits, _there is no future to think about to begin with_. Kageyama needs to think about his goals, staying alive, and—

And?

He’ll figure it out when the time comes. It’s bound to come to him eventually, good or bad – he does not know. He doesn’t have high hopes either way.

 

-

 

When he’s eight, his now-dubbed utopian world falls apart. No one is sure what starts it, but most of the blame goes to the government. An experiment gone wrong, a failed disposal of end results and the humanity suffers, falls apart in no less than three months. Those… _beings_ appear out of nowhere, no force having the ability to contain them. They bite and slash and infect and once they do, you’re one of them. There’s no escape. The infection can be slow but it may also spread through your body like wildfire and once it inflames, within an hour you lose yourself completely. Sometimes you die, especially if your body is weak in strength and mental fortitude. 

It’s the best outcome. Dying your own natural death with a lucid mind, still knowing who you are, still having a grasp on your identity. You recite it to whoever is nearby, tell them the name of your group and they write you down in an ever-growing list of those who died for the sake of some unknown duty. 

 

(It’s like falling asleep. Or maybe like drowning if the sudden lack of breath is anything to judge by. It’s good that they don’t suffer; the seizures do not last long enough for an agonizing death. )

 

Joining a group means keeping your sanity. You know that you will be missed; at least people will remember your face once they go through that damn list and see your name scribbled on it. It’s like a gravestone because you sure as hell won’t be getting one. Nobody buries bodies here. The flesh of the dead poisons those beings. It’s a disgusting thought, yet Kageyama always remembers it even though he tries his best not to. 

You die by their hand and as if that is not enough, after a week or two when you’re already decomposing, they tear your remains into shreds. 

The stench is awful but Kageyama’s so used to it that he doesn’t tie a scarf around his nose anymore. He simply oversteps the body parts lying around, trying not to stare too much in case he might identify them. He’s always trying not to give it too much thought as if those damaged remains are simply dog shit not to be stepped into.

 

-

 

Feelings are forbidden, the leader of the first group he belonged to used to say. Kageyama looked up to him, always wanted to be brave like him, be strong and precise but then the guy killed himself the moment he lost the people, _the person_ , he loved. He slipped out of the leader’s grasp along with the remains of his sanity.

He was weak the entire time, but Kageyama never noticed it, never paid attention. He held himself with grace, head held high, always so hot-blooded and… _overconfident_. It took Kageyama ten horrifying, blood-chilling minutes to realize that it had been nothing more but a perfect mask which was impossible to see through, hiding the broken child that was behind it.

He was crazy all along. Then again, all of them were.

 

-

 

When the beings got to Miyagi prefecture, Kageyama’s parents sent him off with the rest of the kids to the supposed ‘safety’. The word safety sounded so alien to his ears because the moment he boarded a train to nowhere, he had looked through the windows only to see his parents get eaten alive. Just like that.

They didn’t even have the time to react to the sudden ambush and neither did their son, because the train quickly took off, leaving the station far behind. Only blood splattered windows and the railway reminded the kids what really had happened. It was actually happening, this was not some fucked up dream they could wake up from, happy and secure in their beds.

It’s a bit hazy after it. The shock was so great that Kageyama didn’t even cry, unlike the children around him, sobbing their hearts out. 

It’s a memory that leaves him feeling colder than he is, freezes up his internal organs and slices at his heart. His teeth click together and he has to rub his upper arms to get rid of the unpleasant sensation. His teammates ask what’s wrong, but he merely brushes them off. They’re not worried because Kageyama’s eyes are dry. He stopped crying a long time ago and his tear ducts are dry like vast deserts. 

 

(It still feels like there’s a noose tied around his neck, slowly tightening and choking him, pulling him under like the toxic waves of the ocean.

 

 _Sometimes he thinks that it’s an appealing idea_.)

 

-

 

There was a training camp in Tokyo or so they called it. At first it was somewhat like an underground foster home to keep the ‘future’ of the humanity alive. After a week, it had been decided by whatever higher-ups out there that the strongest kids with the most physical capabilities were to start ‘special training’. 

Out of thousands of kids only eight-hundred were proven to be worthy and Kageyama, even at such a young age, managed to land a spot in the lucky list. He showed a lot of promise or so the chief of his group had told him. 

 

(Up to this day Kageyama isn’t sure what happened to the rest of the kids who weren’t that lucky, because they had suddenly disappeared the following day. He has a nagging suspicion eating away the remains of his sanity, but he doesn’t want to think about it. )

 

The living conditions were awful and the rigorous training was even worse. Some kids figured out immediately that they were training to become hunters. If they were to go back to the world above, plagued by infections and death, they needed to learn how to defend themselves properly. They needed physical strength, knowledge of how to use a gun or a knife and every other weapon available on the spot. It was for their own good, or so they thought. 

Kageyama never complained and went through his daily routine with clenched teeth. After a day of intense working out he would be so exhausted that he’d drop on the ground like a stone and sleep, ignoring his empty stomach. 

Sleep. How much he had missed it. Even if during the training years he had to pass out on the cold rock floor with a single blanket on - it was how all of them had to make by – at least he could get some quality sleep without worrying of any possible attacks. Now he had to ‘sleep’ with his mind alert at all times, one eye open, keeping a look on his surroundings. The only positive thing was that his stomach had been fully trained; he could go on without food for days. During his training days he barely had time to eat and the small portions only served to make him hungrier so he usually gave it away to little kids who needed it far more than he did. 

He almost died from malnutrition at the age of thirteen.

When he got out of the hospital, some nice kid with kind brown eyes, ashen-coloured hair and a gentle smile would share his food with Kageyama, not bothering to listen to his constant bitching that he did not need it. The teen said that it was his duty to look after the little ones even though Kageyama had only recently hit his growth spurt and was way taller than the older boy. The food sharing made him regain some of his older strength back.

 

Much like in volleyball, oh how he had missed it as well, people would call him a genius in the training field too. It seemed that Kageyama was just that good when it came to things that required physical strength, three dimensional planning and outlook skills not to mention good judgment when faced with a crisis. When he was almost fifteen, teams started forming. He hadn’t seen the world outside for so long that he had almost forgotten what it was like to begin with. Most of the trainees were weak and fragile from the lack of nature, the lack of real sun; after all special lamps could’ve never replaced it. Kageyama too was a gangly teen with black bags under his sunken eyes, dead inky hair and pasty skin which was way too dry, like paper stretched over muscle. He got assigned to a small group, one of the top three when it came to physical strength though theirs was less of a powerhouse and specialized mostly in good decision making. 

When the time to choose a squad leader came, Kageyama had almost hoped to be chosen but as always he was beaten by the ever-brilliant Oikawa Tooru. Oikawa was a perfect balance of every single strength necessary on their future battlefield. He utilized his abilities to the fullest and was ranked first when it came to the most potential to become a good leader chart, beating Ushijima Wakatoshi along the way. For some reason he wasn’t satisfied even though most of the teenagers envied him and the raw talent he had. 

‘ _I_ don’t need to beat him; _my team_ needs to knock him down a peg.’ Oikawa said as if to encourage them the night before they were scheduled to go outside for the first time in years. As exciting as it was, they were terrified of what they might see. They were too afraid to see the ruins of the once powerful Tokyo, too afraid to face their biggest fears and most importantly – reality. 

The sight was even worse than they imagined.

Nothing was left behind, only crumbled structures and cracked concrete streets. No nature anywhere in sight, the sky had turned dark gray with pollution and no people, dead or alive. It had become a complete ghost town. Some of them cried, others were terrified to the point they raised their weapons against their vital points. They would have killed themselves on the spot if not for Kageyama’s senpai, Iwaizumi Hajime who was somewhat like a pillar of support to their team and their secretly fragile leader. He kept them all in check by saying that they had a duty.

Kageyama does not remember what he told the naïve broken kid who screamed at him to tell their team what exactly this ‘duty’ was.

 

(Iwaizumi never answered, lips thin from being pressed so tight together. A worried gaze directed emotionless Oikawa’s way, _always his way_ , toes curled inside dusty boots, shoulders stiff.)

 

That kid was the first one to go and Kageyama can’t even remember his name. Some very rude brat who always wanted to prove himself in training. Someone just like him.

He doesn’t remember a lot of their names. They were random people forced together by the invisible hands of fate, banded in a group that was doomed to be brutally executed from the very start. Squashed under the pressure their training did not prepare them for.

The moment he saw the world outside, Kageyama’s hometown flashed before his eyes and it made him sick, so very sick once he realized that the same thing must have happened there. There was no place to call home anymore, nowhere to return to, no loving parents and no hostile cat to welcome him. Only rubble, dead grass and endless gray skies. 

He might have cried then. He doesn’t recall.

Feelings are forbidden, Oikawa recited that same old phrase in a dull voice and that was their cue to get a move on. They couldn’t stand around in one place all day or it would have inevitably attracted the beings lurking in the shadows, waiting for fresh human meat. Kageyama felt as if he was being watched the whole time, even stopped Oikawa to tell him about that horrible feeling in the gut but he was merely brushed off.

“What is this? Tobio-chan, _are you scared_? Do you want to go back? Or do you want me to hold your hand the whole time.” Oikawa merely sneered, he always had. The older teen hated him for reasons unknown, treated him as a potential threat to whatever status he had earned through hard work, the title of the best for which he has fought tooth and nail.

Iwaizumi wasn’t that skeptical, he turned wary and monitored their surroundings even more carefully than before, one hand placed on a gun holder strapped to his thigh. It was an eerie feeling, so bad that Kageyama felt physically sick whenever he had to look behind. Something was there, _someone was watching_. Waiting for them to stop and the moment they did, it was the end.

Iwaizumi had probably felt it too, that impending sense of doom, those watchful eyes of the predators. Kageyama watched him bite his lip and grip Oikawa’s wrist as he sped up his pace.

“Keep walking. No breaks until tomorrow morning.” Nobody dared to complain thought it was obvious that Kageyama’s teammates weren’t pleased.

 

\--

 

Iwaizumi’s just a teenager playing a tough adult when he’s nothing more than a lost kid in a grown man’s shoes, his voice trembles and strains and sweat gathers on his brow. He’s so very afraid but he cannot show any weakness, he needs to appear like a pillar, a trustworthy second in command. Iwaizumi walks next to the leader, so close their arms brush together with every step, ready to protect, ready to sacrifice—

 

(If only it had been _them_ , Kageyama thinks from time to time. If only… They would have dealt with them so well; they would have used their knowledge, put their skills to a test and seen how strong they have become. Maybe they could have avoided the casualties, just maybe.)

 

\--

 

Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime had always inspired Kageyama, made him try his best. Whenever he though about them, an urge to test his abilities used to overtake him, a sudden need to see if he could exceed his own limits, if he could be so cool and perfectly balanced in the battlefield where the chance of getting out alive was less than fifty percent. He would learn new tricks by mimicking Oikawa’s swordplay, hoping that one day he too would be able to wield his sword with the same ease his idol did. Kageyama tried to get better at shooting practice - Iwaizumi’s specialty – in order to learn the skill of taking out his enemies before they got close. He wanted to be like them, strong and brave.

Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime were everything but that.

Two teenagers pushed together by the same fate Kageyama has learned to despise, two childhood friends who lost their homes and families the moment they boarded the same train Kageyama had. They were each other’s support and the whole ‘play it big, go out with a bang’ thing just wasn’t for them. It was for the show - a dangerous one-time show to be remembered by the survivors - when in reality they only cared about surviving. It was only human instinct to struggle before the last second.

There was visible fear in Hajime’s dark eyes and a void in Tooru’s. Kageyama wasn’t sure which one scared him more, the unseeing dead gaze or the one that reflected the one emotion that had overtaken all of them, a proof that no one in Aobajousai was strong or brave or even worthy of the title of a soldier. 

 

(Whenever the lights were dimmed and the duo thought nobody was around, Iwaizumi constantly had to remind Oikawa who he was, that he was not not a pawn and had an identity, he had someone who would protect and fight for it until the very last breath. It was an almost tangible bond of blind trust, keeping each other sane.)

 

Kageyama obeyed Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s commands like a dog that he was, trying not to complain or think about anything. After two days he was certain that it must have been a severe case of paranoia, just like their leader had said. Iwaizumi’s shoulders relaxed if only a little and he didn’t stand so close to Oikawa. His hands were constantly resting on the weaponry though, fidgeting with the blade of a knife until the skin of his fingertips turned sensitive and reddened.

It all seemed so normal when they decided to camp for a few days. It felt like they were still underground except they had actual wind reeking of rotting meat, unstable temperature and a vast sky above their heads. They let their guards down that night, joking around and sharing their opinions about the changes that had befallen them. It seemed almost comfortable, almost back to normal, before the fall of the humanity, Kageyama’s brain supplied, but all of that had been a fake moment of pretentious peace, the calm before storm. 

 

(“It’s a burden too big for me to carry. I don’t think I can do this, it’s too much—“ their leader curled up, fingernails chipped, bleeding from scratching at the remains of a shopping center that once stood there.

Kageyama held his breath and pulled the blanket up to his nose, trying to not make a sound. He needed Oikawa to think that he was asleep; he always needed to do it.

Shuffling noises. A muffled sob. “Who else can do it but you, dumbass? You wanted this position, you can’t back down now. We’ll figure something out along the way.” Iwaizumi’s voice was strangely quiet and lacked its usual bite. He seemed tired, completely worn down physically and emotionally.

“I’m scared, Iwa-chan. I’m really scared of what will happen after we cross the highway.” Oikawa let out the fakest laugh that Kageyama’s ever heard, and he had heard plenty of those. 

‘Do your best’. ‘We can do it’. All of those sounded like lies that they really were no matter how lightheartedly spoken, no matter how much they meant those words from the very bottom of their hearts. 

Iwaizumi knew it too, his next words careful, softly-spoken like he was testing them out, rolling them on the tip of his tongue while trying to figure out the best way to say them properly.

“It’s normal to be scared, but try to keep it in.”

More shuffling. Kageyama risked a glance upwards yet saw nothing. They put out the fire before retiring for the night; letting it burn would have been suicide. It had gone completely quiet except for the occasional silent sniffling coming from the other direction and uneasy tossing and turning of Matsukawa beside him. It seemed that Kageyama wasn’t the only one listening. 

The small sounds produced by Aobajousai’s team caught the duo’s attention and they lowered their voices to whispers. No matter how much Kageyama strained his ears he couldn’t hear a thing.

“Go to sleep.” Iwaizumi said a bit louder and the uneasy people stilled, but it seemed that the sentence wasn’t directed their way, not completely. “I’ll take the next shift and watch over. You need to be in a good shape tomorrow, so just— _please_.” He sighed and patiently waited for his best friend to curl up beside him, thin fingers clutching the hem of his jacket.

Once the dull gray skies brightened and Kageyama finally drifted off to sleep, he heard Oikawa’s voice, almost inaudible yet it felt like it was whispered against his own ear.

“Don’t leave my side. There’s no ‘me’ if there’s no ‘you’.”

It made the clots on Kageyama’s heart-wounds peel away and bleed again.

It was their last proper conversation.)

 

\--

 

The morning after had been somewhat okay until they collectively decided to keep going and that awful paranoia gripped at Kageyama’s sanity. People kept asking if he was alright because he jumped up from every single sound like a deer caught in the headlights. Some of his teammates with whom he never got along with decided to use his fear-induced state to play tricks on him and tamper with his nerves even further. They made suspicious noises behind his back and laughed like crazy whenever Kageyama jumped/turned.

He wanted to warn them, tell them to shut the hell up and keep it down—

It was too late.

Before he had the chance to react, someone was pushing him on the ground. Shots rang in the silence, so loud his eardrums almost split. Screaming, shouting, panic. And suspiciously, no roaring or growling.

“What the fuck are you doing, idiot, get up and shoot these fuckers down!” Kindaichi was suddenly in front of his face, forcefully hauling him up from the ground as Kageyama looked around, completely out of it, not sure where 'up' and where 'down' was. There were so many people, far too many than belonged in Aobajousai.

“Don’t just stand there!” he shouted over the sound of infinite bullets being fired and aimed at something, his body shaking after the gun recoiled. “You’re one of the top five best fighters, so get your ass moving and back up Iwaizumi!” 

The lack of fear in Kindaichi’s dark eyes made Kageyama’s vision and hearing focus more than before. They had been ambushed, not by the monsters but by the infamous human traffickers, he deduced quickly as he dived for the safety, gun at ready. It made sense why he had felt eyes on him but no one ever attacked. Only human beings had that type of mindset, lurked in the shadows and waited for a good moment to strike unlike those mindless things driven solely by their mindless urges to destroy and devour. 

The problem was that they never got any sort of firsthand training when it came to human killing.

With the infections running wild and diseases thick in the air, human trafficking had become extremely popular. Dead or alive ‘they’ - Kageyama didn’t even want to call them living humans- would bring ‘body parts’ for those who were in need. The pay was extremely good and getting rid of more people meant bigger survival chances for the rest. 

It was all about the survival of the fittest and this type of nonsense always made Kageyama’s blood boil. They were people, human lives were at stake, and this was the real world as fucked up as it was. This was no game of volleyball where the players could be changed accordingly once they served their purpose. This was life and death and nobody deserved to die no matter how little others thought about them.

Kageyama’s never been trigger happy, not even when it came to the beings, preferring to run, to strategize, to ambush and fight only when he had absolutely no choice, which was most of the time. He jumped out of his hiding spot, ready to aid his teammates only to be greeted by the sight of what could only be called a slaughter. 

Bodies piled all over the ground, familiar and not, some dead, some in agonizing pain, holding onto their wounds, hoping that the pressure would be enough to stop the rapid bleeding. Kageyama pushed some kid out of the way before he got a bullet through the center of his forehead, slid under some rubble and tried his best to not throw up when his elbows touched the blood puddle of his fallen teammate. His brown eyes were open, unseeing and glass-like, mouth stretched like he had been screaming in agony during his last moment and all that Kageyama remembered were those disgusting china dolls from back home with painted glass eyes and porcelain skin.

The shots never ceased and when he crawled out, he ran into Oikawa, taking their enemies out one by one, his face expressionless and concentrated. With a sway the leader overstepped Hanamaki's body, gaze shifting downwards the moment he did. In no more than three seconds a look of pure horror twisted the older teen’s handsome face and he lowered his gun, his arms trembling as if he was incredibly cold. The gun’s handle slipped from his grasp and it hit the ground soundlessly.

Time felt as if it had stopped completely for Kageyama. He felt his own legs move on their own accord, oxygen leaving his lungs as he shouted something at Oikawa. To move, to not stand around, to get it together, _he was the leader damn it_ , he was the genius, he was the one who always said that phrase he himself didn’t believe in—

Iwaizumi was there before Kageyama could even reach out to their shaken leader, forcefully shoving him out of the way before he touched the older teen and made it worse. It felt incredibly silent, the gunshots seemed far away and Kageyama stood completely still, breathing noisily as sweat dripped down from the tip of his nose.

 

(It was true what they said about time slowing down before you died. In Kageyama’s case, it stopped completely before he witnessed any sort of death.)

 

Iwaizumi harshly slammed his own gun against Oikawa’s stomach as if to rouse him from his trance, but it didn’t do anything, not this time. “Come on just take it and run, right now. Tooru, listen to me, _listen_ —“

His voice cracked as he slapped the taller boy’s cheeks to make him focus. It seemed to work and Oikawa gingerly took the gun away from Iwaizumi. “I can’t—“

“Shut up and listen to me. Take the kid and go around the main building. It’s a good place to aim, you can take them out.” He squeezed out through clenched teeth and through blurry vision Kageyama saw that the black haired teen was injured, a scarf tightly wrapped around his calf, slowly getting drenched in dark red. “I’ll take care of things here.”

“Iwa—“ Oikawa sniffled but Iwaizumi merely pushed him back.

“What do you think you’re doing, stop stalling! Get Kageyama and g—“

It was like a flash of lightning in the distance, so fast neither of them saw it. One moment Iwaizumi was standing, playing the big hero with a pained look twisting up his face and the next he turned rigid, a hole in his chest right where his heart was.

 

(After that day guns made Kageyama so uneasy that he couldn’t even look at them.)

 

“Iwa-chan…” Oikawa breathed out, his eyes impossibly wide and his back tense, like a string about to snap from pressure.

For the first time Iwaizumi didn’t answer as he sank to his knees, so slowly it seemed like something out of a movie played in slow-motion. His body tilted forward ready to hit the ground like a ragged doll, a child’s broken toy and right before it made contact, Oikawa was there, catching the lifeless form of his best friend. 

Sound suddenly came back.

“No. _No no no_ , you can’t die here, you seriously can’t. This has to be a joke right. No, this isn’t really happening…” Oikawa shook his deceased friend as if hoping he would come back to life, his eyes glued to Iwaizumi’s unseeing ones. A desperate laugh bubbled in his chest but came out as a wheeze. “You’re joking, this has to be some bad joke—Iwa-chan, come on, _stop playing around already_!” his voice rose in pitch at the end. “Get up, didn’t you tell me that you’ll protect me, protect _us_ , so why—why are you…”

He suddenly calmed down, head lowered. Kageyama couldn’t see his face clearly, long bangs were obscuring the chocolate-tinted eyes and somehow at that very moment his instincts kicked in.

It’s dangerous for you here. _This guy_ is dangerous.

Run. Run as far away as you can.

He took a cautious step back, frowning slightly, eyeing the older teen suspiciously. He didn’t even have the time to mourn the death of his friends, right then all Kageyama wanted was to survive and somehow he knew that if he lingered in Oikawa’s presence it wouldn’t be possible.

Thankfully the leader of Aobajousai didn’t even notice him as he carefully wrapped his arms around what once was Iwaizumi Hajime, his cheek pressed against his chest, right over the wound, uncaring about the sticky warm blood staining his pale skin. 

Kageyama took another step back as Oikawa kept on whispering, rocking himself.

“Please… Iwa-chan, you can’t be dead… you said that we would be together, you said that we’ll make it out of this mess. You promised to stay by my side.” Sobs racked his entire frame, as he finally realized that this was real and not an illusion, not something he could laugh off and ignore. “ _There’s no ‘me’ without ‘you’, damn it!_ ” Kageyama trembled at the sheer power in those words, the absolute despair in his senior’s tone made his skin develop goosebumps. “You’re such a stubborn guy, Iwa-chan… so stubborn, but you don’t break promises… n-not e-ever. I can’t do this without you, I can’t, I can’t—I don’t know what to do, tell me what I should do, Iwa…” 

He kept repeating it, on and on as his voice died down and the silent tears turned into hyperventilating. The leader lost all remaining air in his lungs as the dam kept on crumbing and even more tears streamed down his cheeks. It was replaced with sobbing and with a disbelieving shake of his head, Oikawa Tooru tilted his head upwards, facing the endlessly gray sky and a scream of complete agony and defeat pierced the noise of upheaval all around them, so far away yet still there. 

Kageyama stood there stunned as the older teen screamed and cried his heart out. It had felt like he watched for hours, _for days_ , when in reality it had been only thirty seconds at most. One part of him wanted to approach Oikawa yet the sane and self-aware part realized that it wasn’t a wise decision. Kageyama wanted to tell him that this wasn’t the right time or place to mourn the dead, but then the older teen looked up and once he saw those dead sunken eyes no different than those of their fallen comrades, Kageyama turned on his heel and ran, ran as fast as he could, tripping over abnormally bent limbs and rubble. His pant leg got snagged by a stray metal cord sticking out of a ruined construction but Kageyama merely ripped it forcefully and slid down another rock. He didn’t get far away whilst trying to avoid getting spotted; he could still see Oikawa trying to stand up. 

And that’s when it began. When he thought that it possibly couldn’t get any worse, he saw the ‘lionhearted leader of Aobajousai’ slowly raise two guns and let out a series of shots. Normally it would have been a true sight to behold, but not in their case. It rained bullets and everyone caught in Oikawa’s path of mindless destruction suffered. Kageyama watched in horror from his spot as one bullet hit their god damn teammate. It was like someone had tied a scarf around Oikawa’s eyes, brought him out into a training field and ordered to shoot at the slightest feeling of a movement or sound no matter how low it may be.

His gut feeling hadn’t failed him at the most critical moment but he didn’t know what to do next, how to deal with this and the leader who had gone on a murder spree. 

Kageyama barely managed to duck when he saw those soulless eyes turn in his general direction and quickly slid into a gap between the ground and the fallen constructions, for once glad his body was malnourished. Panic had completely overtaken him, if Oikawa was getting this serious, there was no doubt in his mind that eventually he would be found and disposed of too. He shut his eyes, trying to appear dead as he listened to shots ringing, lead connecting with flesh, ricocheting against concrete. 

His fingertips slid over the surface of his gun, feeling the cool metal. What was he supposed to do? He never had any training for this, never this.

Should he take Oikawa down before all of them got killed if they weren’t already?

Or should he ‘pull the trigger’ and end this nightmare himself?

He tried to think rationally and ignore the screams of agony, the pleas of mercy as he controlled the urge to empty his stomach. If he didn’t do anything then this was the end - a game over. He would be the only coward left, crawling back to the base, hopefully not ambushed by even more human traffickers in hiding or a swarm of monsters. There was absolutely no light in this situation but he already knew that if he was to stay alive, the deaths of Aobajousai’s members would weight heavily on his shoulders, interfere with his performance, bring him nightmares and unwanted memories of the first time he had gone outside. 

He had made his decision to carry that burden, ready to live his life as scum when it went eerily quiet outside. He did not dare to breathe as he heard someone walking around, the footsteps undeniably Oikawa’s, sometimes interrupted by an occasional shot fired as the leader put the wounded out of their ‘misery’, without so much as a single apology uttered. 

The footsteps got closer and Kageyama slapped both of his hands over his mouth and nose as to not let out any noises when a pair of heavy boots appeared in his line of vision. 

They stopped in front of his hideout and Kageyama waited with his heart beating in the back of his throat to the point he wanted it to simply stop, for the mentioned teen to kneel and take a look, but instead another ear splitting shot rang out. A body slid down and hit the ground followed by a hollow noise that was supposed to be something of a cross between a laugh and a sob. 

“I won’t carry this burden, Iwaizumi. Not anymore. Ahh… it’s a bit sad that Tobio-chan got away. A nuisance, a fucking bug, always whining and whimpering. ‘Teach me this, teach me that’ and look now.” Oikawa made a stop for a dramatic effect. “He’s not here. And that’s incredible, because he was always pestering you, _pestering us._ I guess… I guess this is the end of us. There’s no ‘us’ anymore. It’s just me and me alone, because… there’s no ‘me’ without ‘you’. But that’s okay.” He sniffled and it seemed that he wiped at his face with a bloody sleeve. 

The boot clad feet moved away, leaving behind sticky red imprints, yet Oikawa’s voice rang clear in the deadly quiet, carried by the blood-scented wind. “It’s okay, Iwa-chan, because I promised to you that I will always be by your side, just like you did.” The sound of a gun being cocked made Kageyama’s heart sink. He had a very bad feeling about this but he refused to believe it, more like he couldn’t let himself believe. The dull footsteps came to a full stop and the owner dropped to his knees. A sudden urge to see what would happen next flooded Kageyama’s senses and as if possessed, the black haired teen attempted to soundlessly slide his body through the gap, succeeding in his task. He took in his surroundings, one palm pressed to his mouth as he let out a silent scream of anguish once he saw that he was the only one alive, his eyes falling on the body that had been shot last. Kunimi.

He shook his head fervently, hid behind the construction and analyzed the situation. Oikawa, just like he had assumed, was in front of Iwaizumi’s body, his shoulders shaking. Even though the older teen had slaughtered all of the people lying around, not caring whether they were friend or foe, Kageyama still felt his throat constrict at the scene unfolding before his eyes. He was unable to completely hate the person who ended so many lives that day. It made his resolve waver.

A silent sob broke the graveyard-like silence. “You know, I was always sure that I would be the first one to end up dead. You were the rational one between us, weren’t you? You said…” A small pause as Oikawa scrubbed the mixture of drying blood and tears from his face, dirtying it even more. “Remember when you said that after this was over we could run away together, I—even though I never said anything at the time, I didn’t think it was a s-stupid idea, in fact, I kind of _liked it_ and looked forward to it. I wanted to believe in something like that and for a moment there I did, _I really did_. But now, you’re not here anymore and I’m the one left with empty hands, Iwa-chan.” His lifeless voice wavered as sadness took control of his emotions. “Why did you take everything from me, Iwa-chan, Iwa— H-Hajime… I hope you’re waiting, I really do, but we won’t ever meet again. And since we won’t, I want to stay by your side like we promised, okay? If we go, we go together.” 

The gun he had been holding onto the entire time pressed against his temple, unsteady. Kageyama bit down the urge to scream out as he squeezed his eyes shut, fully knowing what was to come, his teeth clattering and braced himself for the impact. 

 

(He held onto his best friend’s hand. Even in death, there was no way he would let go.)

 

“Goodnight, Hajime.”

One final ear-splitting bang disturbed the silence for the last time.

 

(Kageyama hoped that even with sins as big as Oikawa’s, the latter would meet his friend again. He never believed in afterlife but if it truly existed then he wished for the duo to find each other.)

 

\--

 

They found Kageyama curled up in the battlefield that would serve as a graveyard for the fallen with his eyes squeezed shut, palms covering his ears, Oikawa’s gun that was used to commit the cruel act of killing and put the leader out of his misery placed by his feet. 

 

\--

 

Sanity breaks once you lose your anchor, the one who knows who you are the best and constantly reminds you what your purpose in life is. Teams are formed for that sole purpose.

 

(Aobajousai squad annihilated during the first week. Number of survivors: one. Permission to transfer teams will be granted within a month.

According to the eyewitness and single survivor of the ambush, squad leader Oikawa Tooru and his vice-captain Iwaizumi Hajime died in the line of duty.)


End file.
